


Domestic Tranquility

by Perhapsormaybe



Series: Domestic Tranquility [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: F/M, M/M, One Shot Collection, Pregnancy, T for just in case but they're probably all more like a light PG, This is all going to be fluff, and funny, at least I think they're funny, established relationships - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:49:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27258967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perhapsormaybe/pseuds/Perhapsormaybe
Summary: Crowley has given some advice to Newt. Unfortunately, it's bad advice - and the kind that contradicts the advice that Aziraphale has given Anathema. Aziraphale sends Crowley out to fix the problem.
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Domestic Tranquility [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1990291
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Domestic Tranquility

The most surprising part of this post non-pocalypse existence, for Crowley, at least, had to be the fact that he actually was enjoying spending time with the humans. Anathema and Newt came by multiple times a year, and even more so after Crowley and Aziraphale took the next step and finally got married just a few months ago. Newt called the four of them together “Couple friends” and Crowley pretended to be annoyed by it. 

He hadn't expected to have advice requested of him so often, but he tried his best. He always delivered his thoughts flippantly, as though it never mattered. Anathema and Newt had both come to him for advice over the years, and he was starting to feel like he'd finally gotten the hang of it. 

“I'm telling you,” he said into the cell phone, his voice fully confident now, “Just let her calm down and come to you when she's ready. If she's going to keep crying over everything and complaining that the food tastes funny, what are you supposed to do about it? You spent all day cooking, she could at least say thank you.”

“Are you sure?” Newt seemed more confident these days, but the old nervousness was edging back into his voice now. “I just feel like something's different this time.”

“And she'll tell you when she's ready,” Crowley was sitting awkwardly in a plush seat, his feet up in the chair, one arm casually tossed back behind the chair, the other gripping the phone. “Just trust me.”

“Well... All right. Thank you, Crowley.” Crowley hung up without waiting for Newt to say goodbye. 

“Who was that, dear?” Aziraphale called from the kitchen. He'd been clanking around dishes the last half hour, presumably making dinner. 

“Just Newt – he and Anathema are having some issues again, you know how it is.”

“Ah, yes, quite,” Aziraphale emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on the apron he always wore when he was baking. “Anathema called me earlier, actually. Poor thing.”

“'Poor thing'?” Crowley repeated, “Sounds like she's terrifying her poor husband these days. He said he made dinner and she barely tried any of it, and she keeps sniping at him. I think he feels like he's being used for target practice these days.”

“I agree she's being a little tetchy, but are you really surprised?”

Crowley sat up and cocked his head to the side, confused. “I mean, I guess it's just a human thing, isn't it? Acting completely mental every time something goes wrong or upsets you. I told him to just give her some space, she'll come around when she's ready.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale snapped. “Really, dear? Oh, how could you?!”

“How could I- how could I not? The boy needs a break, if she's going to act like that!”

“Crowley, she is _expecting_!”

“Yeah, expecting him to have to put up with it.”

Aziraphale slapped a hand to his face and began rubbing at both of his eyes, trying to regain composure. “Dear. Listen to me very carefully. She. Is. Expecting. She is soon to be great with child. Do you follow?”

Crowley sputtered. “I mean - ...yeah – I, I understand, but Newt-”

“Doesn't know yet,” Aziraphale explained. “Poor dear only took the test this morning and got worried he wouldn't take it well. She says they weren't trying for one. That's why she's so tired. That's why she wasn't able to eat what he made her. In fact, that's what lead her to go out this morning to buy a test. The way the dinner tasted – and sure enough, positive. She figured I would be able to advise her,” he looked meaningfully at Crowley, “And I told her to just tell him the truth.”

Crowley awkwardly stood up and crossed the room to Aziraphale. “In my defense, I am still the smartest person you're married to.”

Aziraphale let out a small chuckle. “True. But you are also going to fix this.”

“Yeah, I'll just call him back, right-” 

“Crowley.”

“I mean,” Crowley said, miracling his keys into his hand, “I am leaving for Jasmine Cottage this instant and I will apologize in person.”

“Thank you,” Aziraphale's response was clipped. 

“Love you,” Crowley offered.

“Love you, too, but off you pop.”

It took him thirty minutes to reach Jasmine Cottage, cursing the whole way. When he banged on the door, it was Anathema who answered. She stared at him crossly, but allowed him to enter. She then slammed the door shut behind him.

“Look, I'm sorry,” he explained, everything pouring out of him the moment his mouth was opened. “I didn't know about your situation and if I had known _that_ -”

“Crowley?” Anathema interrupted, “It's fine. I told Newt everything. He didn't take your advice.”

“You didn't?” Crowley looked over his shoulder to find a guilty looking Newt sitting on the couch, sinking down to try to avoid his gaze. Newt shrugged, but didn't make eye contact. 

“No, he didn't,” Anathema affirmed. “He told me what you said, but said it didn't feel right. So I told him the truth and admitted that I probably shouldn't have been so irritated lately, but _you_ try growing a baby sometime. It's exhausting. And there were so many onions in that pasta he made the other day...”

“About three times what the recipe called for,” Newt admitted, “I like onions, I thought it might taste better that way. Obviously, I was wrong.”

“So. A baby. You two.” Crowley wasn't sure if any of that was a question. Newt got up from the couch and put his arm around Anathema, his hand going around to rest on her belly. “So how long until that happens?”

“It will be a few months, I think eight, probably? I don't see the doctor for at least another three weeks,” Anathema explained, giving Newt's hand a squeeze and going to put the kettle on. “Right now it's just figuring out when we're going to start telling people, buying the baby books...we're a little ahead in that we already have the godparents picked out.”

“Oh?” Crowley asked. He was glancing around the cottage, trying to figure out if it was ok for him to leave. Right now, he figured everything was sorted out – even if he wasn't the one to fix things. Did Aziraphale really need to know that, anyway? Let the angel think Crowley had set everything to rights. 

“Well, of course,” Newt clapped him on the back, urging him into the living room and onto the least comfortable couch Crowley had ever had the displeasure of knowing. He shifted, letting the couch know how long it had to become comfortable or become firewood. It shifted to become more plush and acceptable. “I mean, two angels as the godparents? I know you're a former angel, technically, but-”

“Us?” Crowley grimaced, not from the idea but rather from how squeaky he sounded. It had never occurred to him to be a child's appointed godparent. Sure, they'd done the whole thing with Warlock, but no one had actually asked them to do that. 

“Is this because you're a demon?” Newt asked, his tone serious. “Because we don't care about that, at all. We know you're good,” Crowley hissed at him but didn't say anything, “And it's important that if something were to happen to both of us that the kid goes to a loving home.”

“What on earth, in Hell or even in Heaven makes you think Angel and I are qualified for this?” Crowley demanded. Anathema came in and shoved a hot cup of tea in his hands. He took it automatically. 

“Who else would do it?” She planted her hands on her hips, “You two are immortal.”

“Just because we'll always be around doesn't make us ideal godparents,” Crowley insisted. “I think I scare kids. Big on frightening them, me.”

Anathema and Newt exchanged amused looks. 

“Ah, yes,” Anathema agreed, sitting on the armrest of Newt's chair, “Because Adam and his friends are just _so_ afraid of you.”

Crowley pursed his lips, feeling like a petulant child. “Well, those kids aren't normal, anyhow,” He tried to keep the fondness out of his voice. He failed. “Besides, that lot were eleven when we met them. Not ...babies. Aziraphale doesn't change diapers, you should know.”

“Does that mean you do?” Newt wondered aloud. Crowley ignored him. 

“You know, if you don't want to do it, that's all you have to say,” Anathema pointed out. Crowley didn't like the way she was smiling at him. It said she knew too much. He made a mental note to cause a little harmless trouble for her later, then remembered she was pregnant and decided against it. 

“Fine,” He agreed, taking a sip of his tea, “Fine. Angel and I will be the godparents, then. But you'll probably regret it. Don't blame me if he doesn't like the idea.”

Anathema let out a low chuckle, “Oh, Crowley. I already asked Aziraphale when I talked to him on the phone earlier. He was more worried about how _you'd_ respond. He already warned me he doesn't do diapers.”

Crowley set his tea on the floor just so he could throw up his hands. “Well, glad to be consulted on something that could be life altering,” he crossed his arms and sunk bank into the couch to sulk. Noticing that now even Newt was giving him that damn smile (He knew that one – the one the humans used to mean “Aw, Crowley's a lot sweeter than he pretends to be”). Crowley blinked and the sugar that Newt was stirring into his tea turned into salt. 

“Angel and I seem to need to have a discussion,” He finally said.

“Yes,” Anathema said evenly, but one eyebrow arched upward, “Perhaps sometimes discussing things is the right choice to make.”

“He asked me! I thought you just needed to have a moment to yourself. Angel and I used to spend decades apart.”

“Uh huh. And you're both immortal, so you had more time to work it out. Besides,” Her grin was showing teeth now and looked predatory, “I bet you missed him like crazy every time you had to be away from him.”

“We're not talking about me,” Crowley muttered. 

“So that's a yes,” Newt said cheerfully, taking a sip of tea. He spit it out. “Blech – Anathema, dear, did you accidentally give me the salt instead of the sugar?”

“No, it's the sugar, see?” She picked up the sugar bowl off of the coffee table and opened it to prove the contents. She dipped a finger in and stuck it in her mouth. “Yep, sugar.”

“Ah. I think the tea went bad somehow, then,” Newt placed his cup on the coffee table. 

“If that's all,” Crowley pushed himself up to standing and put his tea cup on the table. “I think I'll head back home now. Lovely to see you both and all and good luck with the uh-” He waved a hand in the direction of Anathema's stomach, “With the little thing. Little newtling”

“You know I'll be expecting you to help out with some things,” Anathema insisted. “I mean, of course you can say no. I'd just appreciate the help – things like setting up the crib when it's time, maybe helping me get to the birthing center on time when the baby comes...”

Crowley walked away and gave an awkward salute as he went out the front door, seeming to ignore the rest of what she had to say. 

“That was rude,” Newt said simply. “Pretty sure in Crowley speak it means that he's onboard”

“Yep,” Anathema said cheerfully. 

When Crowley arrived at home, Aziraphale was waiting up for him. He handed Crowley a scotch as soon as he walked through the door. Crowley accepted it and knocked it back before shutting the front door behind him. He held the glass back out to Aziraphale and the angel took it and refilled it. 

“So,” Crowley took the new glass and swirled it around, studying it carefully before taking a seat in the living room. “Godfathers.”

“Oh, come now. It's not the first time. Warlock-”

“Was nothing official,” Crowley insisted. “The parents didn't know we were involved.”

Aziraphale nodded, coming to sit on the sofa. He leaned forward and put a hand on Crowley's knee. “I'm so sorry. I suppose I should have asked your permission first, but I really thought you'd be delighted.”

“I'm not ...I'm not mad or anything,” Crowley mumbled. “I'm certainly not ecstatic over the idea, mind, but I suppose I could get behind this. And it's only if something happens to Newt and Anathema, right?”

“Precisely. Though, we do have that spare room,” Aziraphale considered. 

“Well, obviously. Gotta fix that up in case the kid wants to come around some time. Or just get away from his parents,” Crowley set his drink down and tented his fingers, smirking as ideas came to him. “I suppose I could make some mischief with a kid around. If I had to. Bit surprised you're on board, though.”

“I like children,” Aziraphale insisted. “Most of the time,” he amended after a moment. “Really we'd be more like uncles than anything. I doubt we'd let anything happen to the pair of them before it's their time. Provided we can help it, of course.”

“Of course.”

Aziraphale picked his current book off of the coffee table and sank back in to start reading. “I suppose you'll be off to bed soon?”

“Bed?” Crowley repeated, shaking his head. “Who has time for that? I have a nursery to get ready.”


End file.
